Read Online Kat, Incorrigible by Stephanie Burgis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Burgis
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tell you—”
“Just go, Kat. Please. I can’t even talk to you right now. I’m too ashamed.”
Her hand curved around a shard of blue and white china as tenderly as if she were cradling a newborn baby. A sob broke from her throat. I saw her lips form a word she didn’t speak out loud: Mama .
I jumped to my feet and fled the room. But when I crawled through the trapdoor into my attic, I realized I hadn’t managed to escape after all.
Mama’s golden mirror lay on my pillow, waiting for me.
When I went down to breakfast the next morning, I could see in Angeline’s face that she knew what had happened. The cabinet was closed and locked again, and to an outside eye—to Stepmama and Papa and Charles and Mr. Carlyle—it must have looked as if nothing had happened.
But I knew better.
Elissa was as cool and reserved at the breakfast table as if I were one of Stepmama’s most unfortunate guests, who had to be tolerated even if they couldn’t be liked. Angeline was even worse. She didn’t glare at me or narrow her eyes or whisper threats in my ear, the way she had a hundred times in the past, the way that I’d expected. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me.
Both my older sisters’ faces were puffy from crying. For me, Mama’s cabinet had been full of mysteries and secrets to be puzzled out, like an adventure. For them, it had been full of memories. And I had broken all of them.
I didn’t weep, but as soon as breakfast ended, I lunged straight out of the house before Stepmama could stop me. I didn’t come back until it was dark and well past dinnertime. It was almost a relief when Stepmama sentenced me to stay in my room for the last two days before our trip. At least that way I didn’t have to see my sisters.
But there was one thing I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.
When I ran into the fields, I found the golden mirror lying on the stone I chose to sit on. I took it home and buried it deep in one of the boxes in my attic, where I wouldn’t have to look at it and be reminded of what I’d done. When I woke up the next morning, though, I found it lying on the pillow beside my head. And on the morning of our trip to Grantham Abbey, I found it lying on top of my packed traveling case.
It had belonged to Mama. But now it seemed to think that it belonged to me.
I tried very hard not to think about how easy Mr. Gregson and Lady Fotherington had said it was for them to leave the mirror … and how much they already seemed to know about my family. Maybe it was good that we were leaving for Grantham Abbey. At least they wouldn’t know to look for me there.
Since it wouldn’t allow me to leave it behind, I slipped Mama’s mirror into the beaded reticule Stepmama had made me for Christmas. I hung the silly, dainty bag over my arm before I left the attic. Angeline and Elissa might raise their eyebrows at the sight of me actually carrying such a ladylike item, but that had to be better than any reaction they might have to the sight of Mama’s mirror appearing suddenly on my lap in the carriage as we traveled, or at my place setting on the Grantham Abbey dinner table.
I had been careful to pack my boys’ clothing, though, just in case. If worse came to worst, I could always fall back on my first plan … especially if I needed to make a quick escape.
We set off an hour later in Squire Briggs’s rickety old second-best traveling carriage, loaned to Stepmama for the trip. It had once been painted a horrible shade of dying olive, but the paint had mostly faded on the outside. The cushions inside felt as thin as writing paper. I scrunched myself into an uncomfortable far corner with my reticule on my lap and tried not to meet my sisters’ eyes as they took their seats across from me. I couldn’t help noticing how pale and unhappy Elissa looked. Angeline’s face was set in her most mulish expression.
At least Frederick Carlyle was staying at home with Papa and Charles, so Angeline
“Just go, Kat. Please. I can’t even talk to you right now. I’m too ashamed.”
Her hand curved around a shard of blue and white china as tenderly as if she were cradling a newborn baby. A sob broke from her throat. I saw her lips form a word she didn’t speak out loud: Mama .
I jumped to my feet and fled the room. But when I crawled through the trapdoor into my attic, I realized I hadn’t managed to escape after all.
Mama’s golden mirror lay on my pillow, waiting for me.
When I went down to breakfast the next morning, I could see in Angeline’s face that she knew what had happened. The cabinet was closed and locked again, and to an outside eye—to Stepmama and Papa and Charles and Mr. Carlyle—it must have looked as if nothing had happened.
But I knew better.
Elissa was as cool and reserved at the breakfast table as if I were one of Stepmama’s most unfortunate guests, who had to be tolerated even if they couldn’t be liked. Angeline was even worse. She didn’t glare at me or narrow her eyes or whisper threats in my ear, the way she had a hundred times in the past, the way that I’d expected. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me.
Both my older sisters’ faces were puffy from crying. For me, Mama’s cabinet had been full of mysteries and secrets to be puzzled out, like an adventure. For them, it had been full of memories. And I had broken all of them.
I didn’t weep, but as soon as breakfast ended, I lunged straight out of the house before Stepmama could stop me. I didn’t come back until it was dark and well past dinnertime. It was almost a relief when Stepmama sentenced me to stay in my room for the last two days before our trip. At least that way I didn’t have to see my sisters.
But there was one thing I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.
When I ran into the fields, I found the golden mirror lying on the stone I chose to sit on. I took it home and buried it deep in one of the boxes in my attic, where I wouldn’t have to look at it and be reminded of what I’d done. When I woke up the next morning, though, I found it lying on the pillow beside my head. And on the morning of our trip to Grantham Abbey, I found it lying on top of my packed traveling case.
It had belonged to Mama. But now it seemed to think that it belonged to me.
I tried very hard not to think about how easy Mr. Gregson and Lady Fotherington had said it was for them to leave the mirror … and how much they already seemed to know about my family. Maybe it was good that we were leaving for Grantham Abbey. At least they wouldn’t know to look for me there.
Since it wouldn’t allow me to leave it behind, I slipped Mama’s mirror into the beaded reticule Stepmama had made me for Christmas. I hung the silly, dainty bag over my arm before I left the attic. Angeline and Elissa might raise their eyebrows at the sight of me actually carrying such a ladylike item, but that had to be better than any reaction they might have to the sight of Mama’s mirror appearing suddenly on my lap in the carriage as we traveled, or at my place setting on the Grantham Abbey dinner table.
I had been careful to pack my boys’ clothing, though, just in case. If worse came to worst, I could always fall back on my first plan … especially if I needed to make a quick escape.
We set off an hour later in Squire Briggs’s rickety old second-best traveling carriage, loaned to Stepmama for the trip. It had once been painted a horrible shade of dying olive, but the paint had mostly faded on the outside. The cushions inside felt as thin as writing paper. I scrunched myself into an uncomfortable far corner with my reticule on my lap and tried not to meet my sisters’ eyes as they took their seats across from me. I couldn’t help noticing how pale and unhappy Elissa looked. Angeline’s face was set in her most mulish expression.
At least Frederick Carlyle was staying at home with Papa and Charles, so Angeline
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